Pink Hands
by Resa Aureus
Summary: A COMPANION ONE-SHOT TO THE LAST MARAUDER. Persephone Jean Lupin is two days old and Sirius learns that there are more types of love than he thought and that it doesn't have to be a romantic love that keeps him tethered to earth.


A/N. This is a companion story to The Last Marauder! I wanted to express the fatherly love Sirius feels for Persephone, because to some extent, in another life, she would have been his daughter and that feeling isn't lost on him.

It is impossible to explain, I think, the love a parent has for their child. And Sirius experiences the belief that his life would never be whole because the two people he loved are taken - until he realizes that a different kind of love altogether can make you whole.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

...~oOo~...

She was very pink. That is the first thought Sirius Black had when he saw his niece for the first time. Incredibly tiny, incredibly soft, and incredibly pink. She was so small, in fact, that she fit perfectly in his cupped palms, and that was it! Just his hands. And her skin was that like baby velvet. And, as said, she was pink all over, like she was wearing a perpetual blush that coated her cheeks and body.

It was all very strange to Sirius, still. Strange that Hermione and Remus were married, that they had a child, and that they didn't live in Grimauld Place with him.

Even sitting in the dim room at St. Mungo's while the rest of England slept was surreal to him. On the bed, Hermione was slumbering, and in the small cot was the new baby, eyes shut and looking very much like a doll.

Persephone. What a nightmare of a name, her uncle reflected. You'd think with being surrounded by horrendous names like _Hermione_ and _Sirius _and _Regulus_ and bloody _Nymphadora _would be enough to get it into parents' heads that nothing good came from weird names.

He would have to come up with a nickname, Sirius decided. It was a talent of his, creating new names for the people he loved. He'd named Prongs and Moony, hadn't he? Granted, Remus was the first to call Hermione Whiskers and James - the prat - came up with Padfoot, but he had chosen the best of the names (or at least, that's what he believed).

Persephone's fair, fine threads of barely-hair struck up like she'd been shocked and had the texture of down. They were very pale, the strands of hair, practically see-through, and seemingly ready to fall out if someone so much as breathed on her too hard.

But what was most interesting about Persephone, and perhaps babies in general, was her fragile, puny, fisted hands that were barely hands at all. They did not have the dexterity to even uncurl yet, and on each round digit was a transparent little nail.

And even though she was only two days old, and even if he'd never made eye-contact with her, and even if she had not yet developed the ability to think - he loved her. She had entered the world from the body of the most important person to him. Persephone was half of Sirius's sister, also his first true love.

it didn't break his heart, anymore, that Hermione was married to and deeply in love with Remus - mostly because it never really had. From he beginning, Sirius knew he loved Hermione in a way that was almost unexplainable. It wasn't the kind of love that led to babies and marriage, but it was so much more than friendship as well. The best way he could describe it was that maybe in another life they were twins or soul-bound... something.

But Sirius's heart wasn't made to love in the traditional sense, he supposed. He knew that from the moment he realized his second true love.

The heart wanted what the heart wanted, Sirius believed, and it was stupid to fight that. Not necessarily act on it, but accept it. Although, he'd be lying if he didn't suffer a few sleepless nights when he understood that he loved James. More than a friend, not quite a lover. Of course, Sirius always wondered, if he was given the chance, if he would engage in a romantic relationship with James - but that had never been a question.

James was tied to Lily before they even boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Their love was destiny. Fate. Whatever you wanted to call it. It was just Meant To Be.

Hermione and Remus weren't really Meant To Be, actually. With all her time-tampering, Sirius wondered if Hermione ever had a Meant To Be. He was jealous of her. When she had her Time-Turner Fiasco, she effectively wiped the board clean. The queen became pawns and her bishops became kings - she had no rules, no ties, no destiny. She had destroyed whatever the gods had in store for her and created her own by choice.

For her, Remus had been a choice. Sirius hadn't had any choice in who he loved - he was stuck loving Hermione and James. And sometimes he hated it. It was burdensome.

With a sigh, Sirius reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his wallet. Inside was a picture that Hermione had no clue he possessed - she hadn't even known it'd been taken.

After their first night together on that Christmas so long ago, he had spent quite some time the next morning staring at Hermione. Maybe it was weird, but mostly he just wanted to... watch. Because for those few hours, she was _his_. No one else's. There was no one else on the planet apart from them, and she had her.

So he'd taken a picture, because he never wanted to forget that feeling. He told himself it was a reminder, so that one day when he met a witch who made him feel the same that he could keep her, but he always knew that the feeling would never reappear.

He would feel dirty if it had. That feeling of ownership and protection belonged to he and Hermione alone. It could not be duplicated, and if it had, the value of it would be cheapened.

The picture was modest and innocent. Hermione was lying on her stomach, her face turned towards him, but mostly obscured by that nest of hair. Her mouth was parted slightly, but enough to reveal those noticeable front teeth of hers. Her shoulders and back were bare, dusted with tan little freckles that he'd spent that morning counting. The sheet of the bed covered her from the hips down, and her arm was stretched to the side, clasped with another hand that belonged to the taker of the photo.

Hermione had been so still and peaceful that, if not for the rise of her breathing, it could be mistaken for a Muggle photograph.

Bending down to the cot closer to Persephone, he whispered, "This is your mum. She's sleeping over there, but this is your mum a very long time ago, when she thought you'd never exist. And it's strange because, now that you do, it feels like there was never a time where you didn't. It's like the world started two days ago, and you were always here."

Predictably, Persephone did not respond, but Sirius only smirked and tucked his wallet back into his pocket before reaching down and gently, very carefully, lifted the small, new creature. Cradling her was almost scary because she was unbelievably light and it made him nervous, but he knew he would keep her safe. That was never a doubt.

With a soft snicker, Sirius shot a look over to Hermione's sleeping form and Remus in the chair next to her, head tipped forward and snorting quietly. "Those wankers," he said to Persephone. "They're sleeping, but I get to have to all to myself for now. Isn't that nice? Just you and me? Without all that troublesome fussing and Healer nonsense."

The only light of the room, was the buttery, muted yellow of the sun just peeking up from the horizon, the start of sunrise filtering through the window. It had an orange-ish hugh to it and it drenched the room.

Sirius began walking around, holding her carefully. "You are quite the survivor, you know that?" he said softly. "Your mum dueled and fought and battled without even knowing you were hiding inside her. But you made it, right until the end. Your mum and dad probably won't tell you this for a long time - possibly never - but there was a time where your dad, Uncle Jamie, and I thought you were... gone. You and your mum. And it killed us. But when we found out we were young, none of us had ever been so grateful for a baby to be born. You, Persephone Jean, are a miracle.

"Unfortunately, though, your mother didn't have enough sense to give you a good, normal name. Personally, I have always liked the name Emily. You don't look much like an Emily, though," he observed absently. "When your mother found out you'd be born in spring, she was almost euphoric. A spring baby. So what would be a better name than the goddess of springtime? she'd said. My answer was bloody anything else. It's creepy, Persephone's story. She's forced to marry her uncle, and then trapped in the underworld for half of the year. What kind of message is that supposed to send you, exactly?" Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes. "Morons, your parents are.

"So let's pick a new name for you, love," Sirius said decisively. "Something that fits you better than that mouthful. Persephone Jean Lupin. I suppose we could always call you Jean, but for me, I certainly wouldn't enjoy being called Orion. Moony Junior or Little Moony is a bit much, and your father would have my head for it. Per... seph... one..." he mused, breaking apart the name. "Hmm. Perhaps..."

And then he smiled down at her with his stroke of genius. "How would you feel about being called Sephie?"

Shockingly, her answer was an adorable little yawn where her tiny mouth opened and took up almost her whole pink face. His own grin widened and said, "I'll take that as a yes. And, you know... you even look like a Sephie, Sephie."

There was a quiet rustling behind him and he turned to find Hermione rolling and adjusting before her eyes fluttered open drowsily. Squinting, it took her a few seconds to see Sirius across the room and when she did, her face relaxed into a smile.

"Good morning," she whispered. "Are you having a conversation with my daughter?"

"How did you know?" he said, walking over slowly.

She looked up at him with kind, brown eyes. "It's something you used to do with Harry, when he was an infant. I'd hear you just... talk to him. And I admit... I often did the same. And last night, Remus was actually doing exactly what you are - watching the sunrise with her."

Sirius smiled and perched himself on the edge of her bed, readjusting how he cradled with swaddled girl. "Sephie is going to be taking before she's a year, at this rate, with all these grown-ups talking to her."

Hermione's smile was beautiful when she said, "Sephie? Did you come up with that?"

He nodded proudly. "I did. And she approved."

"But... her name is Persephone."

"Your point?"

"You can't just change it. I put a lot of time and effort into choosing that name, and even more time and effort into convincing Remus to agree to it," she said with a quiet firmness.

"Well, it's atrocious," he told her honestly. "For Merlin's sake, do you _want_ her to be made fun of at school?"

"No one would dare make fun of Persephone," Hermione said with clarity. "Especially not when her daddy is the Defense professor."

"The point remains," Sirius said. "Sephie likes her name, and you will too some day."

"I rather like it," a tired murmur chimed in. They both turned to find Remus's eyes open and his back arched as he stretched it. His joints had to be screaming from sleeping in that chair. They all her the crack of his spine as he twisted and shook out the stiffness.

"Not you too," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

"I think it suits her wonderfully," Remus said.

"He's only saying that so I'll forgive him for knocking up my sister," Sirius told Sephie.

Remus raised and eyebrow. "I'll thank you not to be so obscene while holding my daughter."

"Now he thinks he can tell me what to do," Sirius said to the sleeping bundle of pink in his arms. "But, realistically, he can't."

Then, to Sirius's surprise, Sephie's eyes peeked open.

And underneath her thin eyelids were a pair of the clearest, silver blues Sirius had ever seen.

All three of the adults fell into silence as they looked into her brilliant eyes.

Sirius knew he would never have a traditional sort of love. He never loved his parents, he loved all of his friends in a peculiar fashion, and his first and second true loves were never to be his.

But when he looked down and his and Sephie's eyes met for the first time, he fell in love for the third time. The little girl had taken hold of his heart, and like her little baby hands now, clenched and dimpled, she would never let go.

This must be how Remus feels, Sirius thought. It was overwhelming. It was like this little girl glued him to this earth and her presence healed every heartache he ever felt.

Sirius may not be the girl's father, but he'd be the best damned uncle the world had ever seen.

And when Sephie's eyes fell shut once more, the sun was fully risen. Another day began

...~oOo~...

**"Children are the hands by which we take hold of heaven...**


End file.
